June 9th
by Ronja-R
Summary: Episodic piece that follows Katniss' and Peeta's lives post-war, each chapter taking place exactly one year after the previous. Rated M for possibility of such content in later chapters.
1. Age 19 - Peeta

Yet another one of those stories I've had lying around my computer for a while. I started this fic because I wanted to write something multi-chapter but without a large, dramatic storyline. As much as I'm prone to writing angst I really enjoyed writing happy Everlark in "Baby Steps" so this will be similar in nature. It's meant to be entirely episodic, a series of ficlets tied together by all taking place in the same story-universe, on a specific date each year. I chose June 9th because that was the day I began writing it and, well, it seemed as good a date as any.

This first installment is from Peeta's POV. The POVs will alternate between the two of them. Since there's no plotline per se I don't know how many chapters there will end up being, or how often chapters will be posted, or for that matter how many years it will end up covering. I suppose I'll keep it up for as long as I can keep coming up with ideas.

* * *

><p>It's a little after nine in the evening and the sun has begun to set. From the back deck of Katniss' house we can follow the sun on the first part of its downward journey until it reaches the tree line. There is a lawn, the end of which is marked by a small hedge, followed by about a hundred meters of public domain grass and then the fence and the woods. The grass on the lawn is mowed and well-kept while the grass between the hedge and the forest grows higher and is still sprinkled with yellow dandelions. The summer after our first Games, and every other summer before that, the government made sure that the field was frequently mowed and free of weeds but after the war nobody's gotten around to it. We don't care much. It's rather nice to see the wild growing grass that nobody disturbs and Katniss loves the dandelions.<p>

It's a warm summer's evening, but not quite as warm as it can be at this time of year. Katniss and I are both wearing full-length pants, I've got a sweater on and she wears a long cardigan. We sit together on the hammock, rocking slowly, enjoying the beautiful sight of the setting sun with all its oranges and pinks and blues. Katniss has her feet up on the cushion next to the one she's sitting on and she leans against me with her head on my shoulder and my arm wrapped loosely around hers. The soft fragrance of the primrose flowers fills the air and the only disturbance is the occasional mosquito we have to swat away.

Earlier today Katniss brought home a wild turkey, the first of the year, and we experimented with seasonings and vegetables and ended up with a quite refreshing casserole that we ate with wild rice and fresh salad. A lot of the things we put on the table have been hunted or gathered by Katniss or baked by me but there are some things we buy at the marketplace in town, which is only open during summer and autumn, or in the small grocery store that opened about a year ago. The wild rice is something they didn't originally sell at but Katniss asked them to bring it in from the Capitol and to our surprise they were able to do so within just a few weeks. Things have indeed changed a lot since the rebellion.

In a way it feels like we're still in some state of recuperating from our experiences during the rebellion. Nobody expects Katniss or me to really get a hold of our lives yet. She hunts, I bake and that's all we really do to feed ourselves. The money we won as victors of the 74th Hunger Games is still ours and in theory we never have to work another day in our lives but at some point people are going to expect us to contribute and not just loiter about and do whatever we feel like. It's almost as if we're on vacation, a very strange and often unpleasant form of vacation, but still an interlude between periods of work. I know this way of life has to come to an end at some point. We need more stability in our lives than to just float around and take each day as it comes. I'm just not sure I'm ready for that yet. I like having no pressure, no demands and no musts. I don't even know what I want to do when I reach the point where I am ready. Many people seem to expect me to have the bakery rebuilt or to open up a new one out here but I'm not at all convinced I want to do that. As much as I love the old family business it wouldn't be the same without my family and after the Hunger Games I came to realize that I enjoyed baking much more when I did it for my own sake and baked what I felt like baking rather than have it be a profession and something that came with boundaries and expectations. If I do the whole bakery thing anyway it will be on a smaller scale. I know there's no point anyway in trying to run a real bakery by myself. As for Katniss, I don't really know what she wants to do other than hunt. I will leave it up to her to figure it out.

"Sometimes when I see a picture of a deer or a wild boar what goes through my mind is picturing how I would kill it and later cook it" says Katniss, breaking the serene mood and smacking a mosquito between her hands.

"Utterly charming" I smirk.

"When you see a sunset like this, are you picturing how you could recreate it with your paint box?" she asks.

I take a moment to answer.

"Yes, sometimes. Not tonight, though."

She accepts the answer with a little noise in the back of her throat. Across the lawn we spot Buttercup coming back from a trek around his hunting grounds, what I like to refer to as him doing his evening rounds. He lazily crosses the yard, trots up to us on the back deck and with a grunt of greeting hops up on my lap where he curls up and yawns. Katniss, who has made better friends with the old cat than I ever expected her to, scratches behind his ear and then slowly strokes his fur. Buttercup purrs contently and yawns again.

"Will you stay for the night?" asks Katniss after a few minutes of silence.

"If you'll have me."

She looks up at me and smirks.

"Don't think you're going to get lucky just because I let you drool on the pillow next to mine."

I laugh lightly and place a kiss on the top of her head.

"Remind me before bed to go back to my place and get my pyjamas" I tease her back.

"Nah" she responds. "You probably won't be needing them."

I spend several nights of the week in her bed, on average about four or five. For the first month or so of our relationship we spent all nights together but it started to feel too intense, like we were moving too fast too soon. We're both still just teenagers, neither of whom have been in a real relationship before, and to go from not together almost living together at the drop of a hat was an enormous change. We both need some space from each other at times. Especially if I've had a flashback I want to be alone for the night but we have discovered that it's not so bad to long for each other every once in a while. We're never further apart at night than three houses down the road and we have an unspoken agreement that if we need the other it's okay to go to them. Sometimes when I'm sleeping alone in my own bed I wake up to find Katniss climbing in beside me after having a nightmare and sometimes when I wake up by myself and dreamt I lost her, or killed her, and I can't tell if it's real or not real I go over to her house and get into bed next to her.

Tonight is not one of the nights we'll spend apart. A small smile plays on my lips. The nights when we go to bed together usually entail having sex before going to sleep and getting to do that with Katniss is not something I think I can ever tire of. Her hand leaves Buttercup and lands on my thigh, slowly stroking close to the part of my body she only discovered last year but has loved to give attention to ever since. My smile widens at the gesture. Tonight is definitely going to be one of those nights where we fall asleep in a tangled mess, pleasurably exhausted in post-orgasmic haze.

"I love you" I tell her in a whisper against her hair. She responds by giving my thigh a light squeeze and making an "mmm" sound.

The two of us have survived two Hunger Games, a rebellion, the murder of people near and dear to us, the destruction of our home district, torture and the effects of highjacking but on nights like tonight none of that seems to really matter. Tonight we are just two nineteen year-olds in love, and getting to be together is all that matters.


	2. Age 20 - Katniss

I wrote the outline for this quite some time ago, which is the reason why it touches on a few themes I use in TCYDT. Here it's much more downplayed though. Katniss is a bit more "fluff-ish" at one point than I think is in-character for her but I figure it can balance out some of the angst in my other stories ;)

* * *

><p>Two years ago I was as good as exiled to District 12 and I can't say it ever bothered me much to be forced to stay there. Twelve is still my home, for better or for worse, and I can't see how I would be any less miserable or happier in any other district. Even so it felt rather nice to receive an invitation from President Paylor to visit District 6 and partake in a three day conference that has been arranged to iron out some details on how Panem is going to be in the future. I don't care much about organization and I have precisely zero interest in contributing any own ideas but I like having the opportunity to overlook what is happening and voice my objections if I see anything that worries me. Peeta said it best when he said that it's comforting to know that decisions are being made openly and with room for objections and not secretly by a closed circle of people who can rule as they see fit.<p>

Today is our second day in Six and we are staying in a large building that has recently been finished. It holds twenty-two separate apartments, all of them small and simple but just right for people of limited means who need a place to start out. Peeta's and my apartment consists of a kitchen about the size of the one we had in the house in the Seam, a bedroom holding little more than a bed, a dresser and a small television, and a bathroom. When we arrived yesterday we were first given keys to two separate rooms, since we're not married, but we both protested and got them house us in an apartment with a bed for two instead.

All afternoon yesterday we sat in on meetings and then we partook in a small and very informal dinner. Today there were meetings held until lunch but after that we were given the rest of the day off sine we chose not to sit in on the discussions on the fates of the few war criminals who have yet to be punished. Tomorrow there will be another full day of meetings, ending with a banquet of some sort. The day after tomorrow we can go back home.

I spent my free time today at the shooting range they have set up in a glade about twenty minutes away from where we are staying. I wasn't alone. Gale is here for the conference and took the afternoon off as well. He and I both went to the shooting range and had one of the most uncomfortable afternoons in recent memory. It's abundantly clear that the deep friendship we once shared has ended and we've grown apart. He doesn't seem to like me much anymore, much less love me. If anything we've mostly been annoyed with one another today. I can't come to terms with how aggressively he seems to view the world and he seems to find me weak.

It's a little over six in the afternoon and all I want to do is take a shower and then go down to the restaurant to have dinner. I'm sweaty and in a bad mood and I hope that I won't have to be social tonight. A quiet table for two, a quiet dinner, that is about all I can muster up the strength for.

The apartment is empty when I get there. I take a long, hot shower and put on some clean clothes. I'm not sure if I should wait for Peeta but it's past seven when I'm done in the bathroom and I'm starving. I wait another fifteen minutes and then I go downstairs to the restaurant and have my quiet dinner sitting by the bar. Nobody disturbs me and I'm very grateful for that.

After dinner I head to the ladies' room. I'm washing up in front of the large mirrors when two women I vaguely recognize from one of the meetings walk in. They look at me, share a look with each other and then come walking up. I hold back a sigh, hoping that whatever they want it will be brief and not too annoying.

They say hello, make some quick small talk about the meetings and the weather and then they share another look. Giggling like schoolgirls they then look at me expectantly.

"We heard you spent the day with Gale Hawthorne today" says one of them.

"For a while" I say, wondering where they're going with this.

"So..." says the other, giving me an expectant look. "Will there be any... reconnecting between the two of you?"

I give her a befuddled look. Her implication is clear as day.

"I'm with Peeta" I remind her. "Remember? Star-crossed lovers and all that?"

"Didn't they reveal that as fake while you were in Thirteen?" asks the second of the two women. "We were there. You two didn't exactly seem on good terms."

"For a reason" I say, not feeling the slightest bit inclined to explain mine and Peeta's relationship to the two of them. "That was a long time ago."

"Sure" nods the first of the women. "But, you know..."

"Know what?" I ask.

They share a look with each other, seeming a bit unsure now. Then they look back at me. I am quickly losing patience and interest and I reach for the soft cotton towels in a dispenser by the sink, aiming to dry my hands and leave, whether they are done talking to me or not.

"I guess we just... thought the thing with Peeta was for show and the real deal was you and Gale" one of the women finally says.

"How is it even any of your business?" I sigh, wiping my hands and throwing the towel in the trashcan. "Gale and I were friends. We're not even that anymore. Now if you'll excuse me."

"Touchy subject" I hear one of the women say on my way out.

"Bad time of the month" snorts the other.

I roll my eyes and resist the temptation of going back and snarling at them. They're not worth it. I'm rather irritated though, so instead of taking the elevator I take the stairs, running between floors to get to physical vent my state of mind. By the time I reach our floor I'm panting and my heart is pounding. At this point I'm definitely ready to call it a night and crawl under the covers.

I call out Peeta's name as I walk inside the apartment and can't help but smile a little when I hear him responding back. We haven't seen each other since lunch. There's something I really enjoy about one of us coming through the door at the end of the day and being greeted by the other. It reminds me of how my mother used to smile when she heard my father's footsteps approaching.

Kicking off my shoes and removing my cardigan I begin to relax, letting the awkward hours with Gale and the conversation with the two strangers wash off of me. I let the cardigan lie on the small, hard couch in the kitchen area and walk to the bedroom where I find Peeta sitting on the edge of the bed, unclasping his prosthetic.

"Hey you" I say, walking over to kiss his brow.

"Hey yourself" he answers. "Did you get anything to eat?"

"Yeah, you?"

He nods.

"We ate in the kitchen."

He spent the later part of the day in the large kitchen that belongs to the restaurant area, baking together with a few baker colleagues who work here. He told me this morning that they would be making cakes for the banquet. I requested the cakes he makes with pear-flavoured whipped cream and a chocolate coating but he chuckled and told me I would have to settle for something called a Pinocchio cake because it was easier to make in large enough quantities. He then described the cake in question to me and while it doesn't sound as delicious as pear and chocolate it still seems very interesting.

"How did the cake baking go?" I ask him as I walk over to the small vanity and pull the hairband from my braid.

"Made twenty large cakes" he answers. "For a gathering of fifty people. Less than ten cakes would have sufficed but who am I to argue with excess food?" He removes the prosthetic and lets it lie beside the bed. Sometimes he sleeps with it but oftentimes he feels it gets uncomfortable. "How was your day out in the woods?"

"It was okay" I say with little enthusiasm, untangling my braid with my fingers. "Gale was there."

"I know. Did you guys have a good time?"

There's something in his voice that surprises me a little. The slightest trace of an edge, something he doesn't normally have. I turn around and look at him carefully.

"Yeah, I suppose… So you know I was there with Gale?"

"Rumour travels fast around here" he says with a crooked grin that doesn't seem entirely genuine.

"There were rumours?"

He shrugs.

"People always seem to find the time for idle gossip."

"Yeah I know…" I say, thinking about the women in the bathroom. "I ran across a couple of twits who were real gossipy hens, right before I came back up here."

He nods and scoots a bit further up on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand. I study him carefully, wondering if he heard the same nonsense as those two women were spewing. I wouldn't think something like that would bother him but on the other hand we haven't yet been in a situation where jealousy could be an issue.

"What rumours did you hear?" I ask carefully.

"Nothing much. That you and Gale were off at the shooting range… reconnecting."

"I wouldn't call it that." I grab a hairbrush and run it through my hair, keeping my eyes on him. "Does it bother you? If I'm out there with Gale, I mean?"

"No" he says.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure, it doesn't bother me."

"Something else is bothering you, then."

He gives me a smile but I know him well enough to be able to tell that he's not as relaxed and content as he wants me to think he is.

"Katniss I don't mind you spending time with Gale. Really, I don't. I believe you love me and want to be with me and that you wouldn't do anything with him that…" He pauses and looks away, cringing for a second. "Okay I'm not entirely fine but it's not because you were in the woods with him."

"Then what is it?"

"I've been noticing that some people… look at me funny. People who saw me on TV when I attacked you on the Capitol streets and… Well, basically there are a few people here who seem to be nervous that I'll have another episode. And… I overheard a group of them talking about you and me, and you and Gale, and how… Well, basically how you would have been smarter to choose him."

"Peeta" I say with a frown, setting the comb down on the vanity.

"I know you love me. You've told me, not to mention shown me. I don't walk around harbouring doubts. You had ample opportunity to choose him before the war ended, before what happened to Prim, and you didn't."

"Well then what's the problem?"

He sighs heavily and runs a hand through his curly hair.

"I guess it just dawned on me that I'll never be able to escape it, you know? That image of me as a mutt. Also no matter how much I trust you it still hurts to hear strangers talk about how much better off you would be with the other guy you could have chosen."

"Peeta…" I say softly, walking over to the bed. Repeating his name I climb up in front of him and move so that I'm straddling him, my palms finding their way inside his unbuttoned shirt to rest on his chest. "Darling Peeta…" I say lovingly, in a tone I only ever think I've used with him. "My love."

He gives me a faint smile, his distress at what he overheard plainly written on his face yet seeming at least a little bit reassured.

"I know" he says gently. "I know… And I know that what those people think shouldn't matter at all."

"It bothers me, too" I tell him. "Knowing that they think that way about you… Even if it's only a few of them who think like that."

"I guess we can't fault them, though."

"They are wrong…" I say, my palms caressing his upper body slowly. "Even if I hadn't been able to be with you I wouldn't have chosen Gale. I knew that when I got out of the second arena. I knew it long before… before what happened to Prim. Maybe other people in Panem don't know it and cannot see it but they'll come to realize it in time. You are my love." I lean in and give him a soft kiss. I'm not usually this lovey-dovey but something about the situation makes me want to affirm my feelings for him, as if to prove that those people are wrong. "The one I chose. The one I will always choose. My beloved." I kiss him again and his arms wrap around me, making me feel good and loved and safe. "As for Gale, spending time with him today was quite uncomfortable. I would have preferred it if we hadn't been there at the same time."

"He was your best friend for a long time" says Peeta, his voice a touch gravelly. I grind against him a little and feel his body responding through the clothes that separate us. "I mean it when I say I trust you. I hate it, though, that people we don't even know think you should have made a different choice. I hate being judged by them." He draws a deep breath. "And I have to be perfectly honest with you, there are times when the doubts from the hijacking begin to resurface even though I know those are all lies. It's getting better, happening less and less often, but…"

While he talks I begin to pepper him with kisses and to slowly rock against him.

"I haven't given you reason to doubt me yet and I'm not going to" I say.

"I know. I know it's not fair but it's hard to fight it sometimes. Especially when I hear people talking here…"

"We'll just have to show them, I guess…" My lips press against his pulse point and he shivers. "Be a little extra cute and loving when we're out in public…" Another kiss along his jawline. His hands begin to caress my back. "Besides, if they think you're the wrong choice because you went crazy for a while then I say that makes you the _right_ choice. I went pretty crazy too."

"You're not crazy" he mumbles against my lips, his breath hot on my mouth.

"Neither are you" I say, kissing him hotly. "You are my rock." As I say the last word I rock against him hard, for emphasis. He groans. "My stability." My hands find his cheeks and I kiss him again. "My love."

"My love" he mumbles back to me. His hands find their way inside my shirt and I sigh contently. "You're mine. Just like I'm yours."

"We're each other's."

Then he grabs a hold of me and with a yelp I find myself being spun around and lying on my back, Peeta on top of me. He doesn't use his wrestler moves in bed very often, especially not when his prosthetic is off, but I find it very arousing whenever he does. He stares into my eyes for a moment and I can tell there's still a trace of insecurity there. My hand reaches up and caresses his cheek and I hope the look in my eyes is enough to tell him that I want no one but him. Finally a smile appears on his face and he gives me a soft, tender kiss.

"We have ample time to convince people we are in love for real" he says. "We have all our lives to do that."

"We do" I nod, feeling a thrilling sensation run through me at the thought of so much time together. "In fact… We don't have to make an appearance at the banquet tomorrow. We could just stay here, in bed together…"

"It's just one night" says Peeta softly. "Being alone with you sounds perfect but we have any number of such nights and there won't be another chance to be at that banquet. Who knows, we might even have a good time?"

"We could have a better time in bed" I say suggestively, raising my eyebrows.

Peeta chuckles. Then he leans down and gives me a long, loving kiss, rocking his pelvis against mine.

"I wouldn't mind having a good time with you right now" he murmurs against my lips.

* * *

><p>Afterward we lie wrapped in each other's arms, sharing a pillow, peace and tranquillity filling the room. My hand caresses Peeta's cheek and we smile at each other.<p>

"You trust in my love for you" I say. "Real or not real?"

"If I say 'not real', will you prove your feelings for me again?" he jokes. He chuckles at my frown and pulls me closer. "Yes, Katniss, I do trust in your feelings for me. And as long as I have that I can put up with the looks and the whispers and the remarks."

"All the same," I say, "I'm staying glued to your hip at the banquet tomorrow. Anybody who dares say anything negative about my boyfriend will be not-so-gently reminded that I'm not a person you want to mess with."

He kisses my brow and I settle in his embrace, wrapping my arm across his chest, sighing contently as I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

* * *

><p>For those of you who are interested in the "baking Peeta" aspects, pinocchio cakes are fairly common in Sweden (and really delicious) but I don't know if they have an English language equivalent. If you're curious about it you can try googling "pinocchiotårta"!<p> 


	3. Age 21 - Peeta

With a loaf of bread in a textile bag in one hand and a mug of steaming hot coffee in the other I use my elbow to press down the door handle and nudge Haymitch's back door open. It's a little tricky to get the door open without spilling any of the coffee but I've done this numerous times before and I'm getting the hang of it. I used to bring only bread whenever I stopped by but after learning to drink coffee myself in the morning to get energized for the day I've taken to bringing some to Haymitch as well. He can't spend every day sleeping until noon. I know why he does it but it's not good for him.

"Hey!" I call out as I use my foot to kick the door shut behind me. I groan at the unpleasant smell that fills the house and grit my teeth at the mess of dirty clothes and even dirtier dishes lying around in the room. "Haymitch, you up?"

I get no answer so I head for the kitchen. It's an even bigger mess than the rest of the house and smells worse and there's no denying I find it gross. I've been raised to keep a clean kitchen and it annoys me to no end that Haymitch seems to treat this particular room as a slag heap. How does he get the urge to prepare food in this stench? Not to mention eat a single bite. It's revolting.

I place the coffee mug on the table, using my arm to brush a collection of assorted junk down on the floor to make some room, and bring the bag with the bread over to the counter in search of a cutting board and a knife.

"Haymitch!" I bellow, wondering if he's sleeping downstairs or if I'll have to go upstairs to get him awake.

"Here's an idea for a new routine" mutters Haymitch as he comes stumbling into the kitchen a minute later, his hair on end and his face marked with sleep. "You send a loaf of bread with Katniss in the morning, she brings it to me when she returns from her animal murdering trip in the woods, and on the way she stops and buys me some white liquor. That way everybody wins."

"How does _anybody_ win in that equation?" I challenge. As he slumps in a chair by the table I bring the cutting board, the knife and my bag over to him. "I'd have to get up earlier to bake before she leaves, she'd have to enable your drinking and let's face it, that bread would be in her stomach hours before she's done hunting."

"It's a pretty sick world we live in when a young woman would steal bread from her old mentor" grumbles Haymitch, grabbing the knife to cut himself a slice of bread.

"Sleep well?" I ask dryly.

"Until you showed up."

"Drink the coffee. You need it."

He takes the mug and makes a grimace when he tastes the beverage. It's at least three times as strong as the coffee I drink in the morning but I figure he needs much more to rouse him than I do.

"There's hardly any room for you to even eat at this table anymore" I comment, seeing him look for a good place to set the mug down.

"None of your concern."

"And yet it still concerns me."

I take one look at the kitchen counter and force myself not to sigh. At least the dirty dishes means he's eating proper food. Too bad he's also appearing to be growing penicillin for an entire hospital ward. Topping off the mess of dirty plates, unwashed glasses and burned pots are at least three kitchen towels, dirty and wet and probably crawling with bacteria. How he can live and eat in this mess and not get sick is a question for the ages.

"Leave it, boy" says Haymitch, probably reading my intentions on my face. "I can take care of my own damn dirty dishes."

"Exhibit A."

"Don't you clean enough kitchens as it is with your whole bakery thing?" he asks, referring to the bakery I opened three months ago. I only keep it open Saturdays and Sundays, feeling it best to start small, and the only people working there are me and Katniss.

"Apparently I don't" I answer his question as I begin to fill the sink with warm water.

"That place must be a blast when you and your feistier half are on the outs with each other" he notes as he leans back in his chair and burps.

"Yeah, like that happens often. When it does she manages the store and I stay in the kitchen" I reply, not sure why I'm bothering to answer what was undoubtedly a rhetorical remark.

"I bet your customers prefer it when you're not getting along, then. If Katniss is in the kitchen you've got nobody managing the desk and probably no edible baked goods."

"You think that by insulting my girlfriend you're going to get me to rethink cleaning your pigsty of a kitchen?"

"I just enjoy insulting you and your girlfriend."

I roll my eyes and begin to clear the sink of cardboard boxes and paper towels so that I can fill it up with water and get to work on the dishes.

"You're going to get sick if you continue to live like this" I can't help but commenting.

"That's crap" snorts Haymitch. "I've lived like this since before you lived at all and I don't get sick any more often than the next person."

"Don't you _want_ more order around you?" Making a face I grab a set of dirty plates and carefully drop them into the now water-filled sink. "When Hazelle was your housekeeper this place was nice and I refuse to believe you didn't like it better that way."

"Enough now, _mother._"

"_Mother_?" I echo, surprised and a tad bit offended that he used the female parental. "Look, I just want you to have a nice home. I want to be able to come visit you without feeling sick to my stomach. Do you seriously not notice how much this place _smells_?"

"With this attitude you're very welcome not to come visit."

I refrain from further comment and focus on the dishes. While Haymitch eats I debate with myself just how big of an effort I should be making with the cleaning. There doesn't seem to be much point to it unless I do it properly but that would take me all day. Just cleaning the kitchen would have me here until lunch.

I can't help but wonder what would happen if Haymitch met someone and brought her home to this pigsty. Who'd want to stick around? I don't suspect Haymitch is thinking anything along those lines but his loneliness concerns me. The thought of him being cooped up here all alone most of the time does not sit well with me. I remember how tough and saddening it was to move from a house of five to a five times larger house with only me. How badly it stung that my family didn't move with me, no matter how much they all insisted that it would be too much trouble to not live at the bakery. My mother was actually concerned they might take the bakery away from them if they no longer lived on the premises and she might have been right about that but it was depressing all the same. I know there's a difference between being alone and being lonely but spending your entire life in the kind of solitude Haymitch does can't be good for anyone.

When I'm done with the dishes I move on to clearing the counter. Haymitch, now done with both bread and coffee, remains sitting at the table, eyeing me as I work. If he really wanted me gone he would leave the room and head back to bed and the fact that he doesn't suggests to me that he likes having my company.

"Don't take this the wrong way…" I begin carefully, scrubbing a particularly sticky stain with a sponge.

"Nobody asked you to clean up" he grumbles.

"That's not what I was going to talk about." With an irritated huff I grab the bottle of cleaning spray, which I'm sure either Katniss or I must have bought, and attack the stain with more than just the sponge. "It's just… When was the last time you had a visitor besides me or Katniss?"

"Lenny wandered in through the back door a few days ago."

"Geese don't count."

"I'm not much for human company."

"Doesn't it get lonely?" I can't help but ask.

Haymitch studies me for a minute before answering. I can see the wheels in his head turning as he tries to figure out what I'm going for. He can read Katniss very well but I've always been more difficult for him to figure out.

"Since when are you concerned that I'm lonely?" he finally asks.

"It's a big house to live in all by yourself. Trust me, I know." Proceeding with caution I bring up a subject I can only assume must still be a sore spot. "You never tell us much about your… social life over the years. I know the other mentors were your friends and I know you enjoy our company so I know you're not a hermit." Finally I get the spot out and I throw the sponge in the trash, opting to use a new one to clean the rest of the counter. "Has there been… Has there been anyone else? Since your girl died, I mean?"

I make sure not to look at him right now but I can guess that he's got a pretty unfriendly scowl on his face.

"Not everyone needs to have a someone to be happy, boy" comes the answer, the tone low but not entirely hostile.

"This is you happy?" I challenge.

"You think a woman would turn my life into one full of sunshine and rainbows?"

My instinctive response is to confirm that. I know the pain and darkness he lives with will not disappear overnight, or perhaps even at all, through the magic of love and companionship but I do believe it could make his life much, much better. I think of my own life, the terrors and the haunting memories and the thing dr. Aurelius calls post-traumatic stress. It's a lot to live with and my life will never be carefree and, well, full of sunshine and rainbows but the presence of one Katniss Everdeen makes life not just endurable but sometimes filled with incredible joy and emotional satisfaction. Love is something the darkness cannot overshadow.

I think back to two nights ago when we went to bed early and made love. I think of the way my heart leaps with joy when she looks at me with lust and like she can't get enough of me. How soothing it is to the sadness in our lives to be able to give her pleasure and to have her give pleasure to me. My heart is overcome with warmth and happiness when I think of the words she whispered to me while looking at me with that look in her eyes. Katniss, who used to say very little in bed, has over the past three years become more verbal and sometimes I'm not sure she's fully aware of what she's saying. The words just seem to be slipping out of her when the moment overcomes her. It's my greatest privilege to be the one she says those things to, the one she feels comfortable and secure enough with to enjoy intimacy in every definition of the word. During sex two days ago the words "I'm so in love" fell from her lips and it brought me such joy and such affection for her that I needed a moment to gather my composure. She, as most often, was unaware of the effect she has and was surprised when I needed a moment.

Not everybody needs this kind of togetherness in order to be happy or lead a fulfilled life, that I know and can understand. I do however think that finding something like what Katniss and I have, finding something even a third as fulfilling even, would do wonders for Haymitch and help heal his wounded soul. There are some things that are so difficult to live with that having someone in your life to help carry that burden can make all the difference. Moreover I have no doubt that Haymitch didn't _choose_ a life of seclusion. It was the only option he saw available to him after Snow had his family and his girlfriend killed. That, in my opinion, is not the same as not needing a relationship in order to be happy.

"I think you deserve to have love" I answer his question. "I think it would do you good. Katniss and I are your family but we cannot take the place of a romantic partner."

"Boy I have lived this way for a very long time" says Haymitch, leaning forward over the table. I walk over and begin to gather the garbage, the clothes and the various other times sitting on the surface and he lets me stay near. "I don't want to make room in my life for a woman. I don't want to have to compromise, I don't want to give up half the bed and I don't want _my_ home to suddenly also be somebody _else's_ home. I get that you don't understand that but I do expect you to respect it."

"I'm not setting you up with someone, or anything" I point out.

"You'd better not be." He gives me a strange look that makes me frown. "The relationship issue is a little too important to you, though, it seems. Peeta do you ever think you and Katniss might be too co-dependent?"

The question has me flummoxed. I don't even understand what it's supposed to mean. I know Katniss and I lean on each other and count on each other to carry us through the difficulties we're faced with, something that began in our first arena, but I've never seen it as being co-dependent, whatever that means.

"We're not" I answer, giving Haymitch a look.

"No need to turn your spines out. I know you're in love and it's good that you have each other. Did you ever stop to think though that you might be taking it a bit too far? You can have a loving relationship without depending on one another for everything."

"Katniss and I need each other in all the right ways" I say, giving him another wary look as I fill the trash bag up with assorted junk from the table. "You make it sound like we can't go get the mail without each other's company. You don't see Katniss anywhere here right now, do you? We're perfectly capable of getting by alone, we just don't want to."

"That's not entirely true though, is it? Before you moved in with her I saw the pair of you running from one house to the other if you didn't start the night off in the same bed. A healthy relationship leaves room for things like being able to sleep through the night on your own."

"You don't know what you're talking about" I say defensively. "You see only what you want to see."

"And you see me as being unhappy because I don't need another person to make my life happy. You're not going to be able to always be together – you realize that, right? I think you'd be well off taking a step back and learning to handle life on your own, at least for a day at a time." He gives me a pointed look. "You remember how Katniss' mother crumbled when her husband died. Do you want that to happen to Katniss too, or do you want her to be able to get a grip and move forward if you end up dead before she is?"

Finding the sudden turn of the conversation wholly unpleasant I snort and tie up the garbage bag, refusing to answer. Of course I don't want Katniss to fall to pieces and lose the will to live if I were to die but she and I need each other. We pull each other through. At least at this point in our lives, just a few short years after two Hunger Games, a war, the loss of our families and having been burned in an explosion. I don't think it's fair to demand that we be able to hold everything together without one another just yet. That's not what she and I do. We save each other, protect each other. Right now we're at a place where we need one another and I'm not going to feel bad about the best thing in my life.

"I think you're just telling yourself all of this to make yourself feel better" I say, though I know it's unfair. "And you win. I won't try to tidy up this garbage disposal of a house. Not much point anyway. You'd have it back in the same condition by next morning."

"Stepped on some tender toes there, did I?" asks Haymitch smugly.

"Have a nice day, old man."

With those parting words I head for the door, the large garbage bag flung over my shoulder. Stepping outside and filling my lungs with fresh air feels like heaven.

* * *

><p>Once back home I find I need to change my clothes as the smell from Haymitch's house seems to have permeated the fabric of my t-shirt and slacks. Either that or it's just stuck in my nose and won't go away for hours yet. I take a shower and change into clean clothes and feel a bit better after that.<p>

I head down to the kitchen and grab the recipe book from its place on the shelf by the table. The book is a pet project of mine, modelled after Katniss' plant book, in which I try to recreate all the things my parents used to bake and jot down the recipes once I'm convinced I've gotten them right. My mother and father kept most of their recipes in their own heads but the two books they did have were of course lost in the bombings. I don't want all those recipes to be gone forever so I do what I can to preserve them. Some recipes are easy, ones I've been following day in and day out since childhood, but others are trickier. There were some things we only baked on special order, other things we only baked at certain times of the year. Some of them I never participated in baking myself but I was lucky enough to get a taste every now and then. It can take me days sometimes to try and recreate the recipes for those kind of breads and treats, experimenting with different spices, flours and methods. For the past two days I've been trying to bake teacakes the way my father did, as a type of soda bread. It's been going so-so.

While I work my mind wanders and keeps going back to my conversation with Haymitch. Do I depend too much on Katniss? Does she depend too much on me? To what degree would that be a bad thing? Katniss Everdeen loving me and needing me is all I ever dreamed to hope for. Am I now supposed to think that's not good? That it might in fact be a disadvantage for her to feel that connected to me?

These thoughts stay in my head and almost distracts me from the work at hand. I don't even hear the door opening or Katniss coming inside the house and leaving her hunting gear in the hallway. It's not until I feel a pair of hands sneaking around my waist, working their way up to land on my chest, her cheek resting against my shoulder and her body pressing against my back that I know she's come back home. I'm filled with affection for her, in love with her simple gesture of showing me she's missed me and she's glad to be back home with me. It's a small and simple thing but it means so much. Maybe it is co-dependent but there's beauty in it.

"I've missed you" I tell her in greeting, hoping that knowing that makes her feel the same way I feel knowing that she's missed me.

She makes a sound in the back of her throat that tells me she's smiling at my words and she rocks us back and forth a few times.

"What's my man been up to?" she asks. "Making any progress with the teacakes?"

"I… honestly have no idea" I confess. "How was the woods?"

"The usual." Her lips press a kiss against my neck and then she moves away from me to fetch her game bag from the kitchen table where she apparently put it before walking up to me. "I wasn't able to catch anything so I stopped by the market and got us some broccoli. I thought we could combine it with the other veggies we've got left and make a pie. What do you think?"

"Sounds good" I nod. I move over to the oven and remove the last batch of teacakes. "We could have these with the pie, assuming they're edible."

I look over at her just in time to catch her rolling her eyes as she hops up on the kitchen island, bag of broccoli in hand.

"Everything you bake is _edible_. It's tiresome that you second-guess yourself to that degree every time it takes you more than a day to remember a recipe right."

I chuckle and grab the broccoli bag to put it in the fridge at the same time as I take out butter and cheese.

"Well, you never know. One of these days I'll stumble upon a combination that tastes horrible and not even Haymitch's geese will want to eat the finished product." I grab one of the teacakes that has had time to cool off a bit and begin to butter it. "I'm not even sure what I added to the mix this time so I guess it would suck if it turns out to be the correct recipe. Here, try it."

I walk over to her, handing her the bread, and she takes a bite with a scowl on her face. She chews slowly and the scowl stays in place but it doesn't seem to be a reaction to the bread. I take a bite for myself and decide that it tastes okay but not right.

"Is something the matter?" she asks. "It's not like you to be too distracted to know what you put in your experiments."

I hand her the rest of the bread and shrug a shoulder, walking back to the counter to take care of the rest of the baked goods.

"I had a… weird conversation with Haymitch. Nothing to worry about." I don't want to tell her what he said because I don't want her to have any concerns about whether or not our relationship is healthy. She can overthink things and if _I'm_ overthinking this she's bound to be even more preoccupied with it than I have been today. So instead I choose to focus on something else. "I'm a little bit worried that he's lonely."

She seems to ponder it for a second while chewing on another bite of bread. Then she shrugs a shoulder and swallows, jumping down from her seat.

"He knows where to find us if he wants company."

"That's not the kind of loneliness I meant."

She walks up and stands beside me, leaning her back against the counter.

"If he is lonely then only Haymitch can do anything to rectify it" she says. "We have to let him choose for himself if he wants to be alone or with somebody."

I nod slightly, choosing to leave the subject at that. She seems to sense though that I'm not entirely at peace. When I finish putting the bread into bags and placing them in a neat row on the counter she turns to me and pulls me into her arms, kissing my shoulder gently before resting her cheek against it. She doesn't say a word and she doesn't have to. I pull her closer and try not to think of how painfully empty the rest of my life would be without her in it.

I don't know how to define what we share, what we are or what that means in our lives. With Katniss holding me close I decide it doesn't really matter. As long as she and I feel good because of it then to me it will be healthy. As for Haymitch's possible loneliness, I guess she's right.


End file.
